


To Misty Mountains Cold

by Elvesliketrees



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Bilbo is a BAMF, Conscription, Dark! Fic, Extreme AU!, F/M, Fem!Gloin, Gen, I Don't Even Know, King! Smaug, King!Bilbo, Ranger!Thorin, Smaug takes over the world, The company are amazing friends, Violence, What was I thinking??, fem!dori - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-18
Updated: 2014-10-24
Packaged: 2018-02-21 14:38:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2471864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elvesliketrees/pseuds/Elvesliketrees
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There were once four kingdoms who lived in great peace. And then came a dragon....Bilbo is an ordinary teen, going on adventures with his best friend Bofur and helping out on the farm. However, on one fateful day, his life is turned inside-out. He's flung into an adventure that gains him both friends and foes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Story Notes

**Author's Note:**

> Okay people, I have only a vague idea where this is going! Last year, I wrote an original story that ended up being around 200 pages. When I started thinking of a new idea for my fics, I came up with this. This is an EXTREME AU, based on my story, and is very dark in the beginning. Do not read if you don't like AU! I basically have taken all the characters from The Hobbit and a select few from Lord of the Rings. This first chapter is basically a listing of characters by name with a little background info. The next chapter will be a basic prologue giving us some background on Middle-Earth. I don't know how well this will go, we'll have to see. Please please please comment! I'm looking for suggestions and reviews! Thank you guys so much and happy reading!

Cast by family-

Baggins Family;

Bungo Baggins: King of the Shire, a good man.

Belladonna Baggins: Queen of the Shire, strong-willed and spirited.

Bilbo Baggins: Hobbit, eighteen years of age, lives in the Wild.

Durin Family;

Thorin Oakenshield: Human ranger, eighteen years of age. Home is unknown.

'Li Family;

Fili: Human, eighteen years of age. Home is in Dale.

Kili: Human, seventeen years of age. Home is in Dale.

'In Family;

Balin: Human, twenty-three years of age. Home is Erebor.

Dwalin: Human, twenty years of age. Home is in the wilds.

'Ur family;

Bofur: Human, nineteen years of age. Home is in the Wild.

Bombur: Human, twenty-one years of age. Home is in Erebor.

Bifur: Human, twenty-six years of age. Home is in Erebor.

'Oin Family;

Gloin: Human, eighteen years of age. Home is in Erebor.

Oin: Human, twenty-seven years of age. Home is in Erebor.

'Ri Family;

Dori: Human, twenty-four years of age. Home is in Chetwood.

Nori: Human, nineteen years of age. Home is in Chetwood.

Ori: Human, sixteen years of age. Home is in Chetwood.

Others;

Dis: Dwarf, thirty years of age. Home is in Ered Luin.

Elrond: Elf, thirty-eight years of age. Home is unknown.

Arwen: Elf, eighteen years of age. Home is in Mirkwood.

Legolas: Elf, twenty years of age. Home is in Mirkwood.

Bard: Human, thirty-five years of age. Home is in Dale.

Theoden: Human, fifty years of age. Home in Rohan.

Eowyn: Human, twenty-two years of age. Home is in Rohan.

Eomer: Human, twenty-four years of age. Home is in Rohan.

Areas-

Erebor: One of the human homes. Basically an impenetrable stronghold of stone. Lies in the north.

Dale: Second of the human kingdoms. A city of great trade, lies on the west coast.

The Shire: Eastern kingdom of hobbits.

Mirkwood: Home of the elves, lies in the south.

Bree: A city of criminals and cons, lies in the middle of the realm.

Chetwood: Wood filled with bandits. The main road runs through it.

The Wild: Strip of farmland running around Mirkwood, some of the last free lands that are not in the elven kingdom.

Rohan: An island in the Great Sea, a kingdom of warriors.

Ered Luin: The great dwarven city that lies in the Blue Mountains.

 


	2. Prologue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story of the four kingdoms

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go guys, thanks for reading!

There was once a great realm called Middle-Earth. The people lived in peace, under one great king called Elendil. Under the care of this wise and noble king, the realm prospered. But it was not meant to be. Out of the far south came a great evil who was called Sauron.  Sauron, the foe of great darkness slaughtered and burned as he went. In his hand was Melkor, a sword of great evil. In battle, none could stand against him. Seeing the tumult and suffering of his people, Elendil acted. He gathered his warriors and his lords, and he rode to battle and to war. At his side was Narsil, the magical sword gifted to the king of the realm. He rode towards the darkness, and his sword was like a shining star in the blackness. On the field, Melkor and Narsil met. Good fought evil, and evil was cast down. Sauron was destroyed. However, victory comes at a price. Narsil was in shards, and his master was dead. The people mourned long and loudly, and the kingdom was inconsolable. And the victory was not fully won. Melkor was nowhere to be found, and none knew where he had been spirited. And when the realm buried their dead and their king, they cried for another brow to grace the crown. But once more Narsil made the decision for them. Four weapons appeared from Narsil. One, a long sword called Sting, sharp and quick. The other, an axe, huge and shining, called Deathless. Another weapon, a bow black as night and smooth, called Dauntless. The final weapon came in the form of a brace of knives, hard as diamond and curved, and they were known as Cailothema, or Daughters of Light. The powers of Narsil were divided among the weapons, and the people had their answer. Four crowns were made, and four kings graced them. Four kingdoms arose. In the north was Erebor. Erebor, a city built in a mountain, hard and impenetrable. In the west was Dale, which lay next to the water. Ships great and small graced her shores, and trade of all kinds was conducted in her streets. In the east was the Shire, green and fertile. Many farms graced her lands and many of the people were fed by her hands. In the south was Mirkwood, a great and dark forest, but beautiful. In this forest the elves dwelled. In the Blue Mountains the dwarves lived, mining the rock and making things of great beauty. For a while, the lands were blessed with peace. But the kings grew greedy. War was raged, it went for decades. Fathers fell on the field, and sons picked up their swords. Finally, peace was called. Bandobras of the Shire, Oropher of Mirkwood, Girion of Dale, and Thror of Erebor parleyed in the Blue Mountains. As part of the pact that was made, the weapons were scattered to the four winds, and the kings knew not where they went. Copies were made, though no magic dwelt in them. The weapons no more would be used for violence. Many years of peace passed, and the kingdoms prospered. Thrain came to the throne of Erebor, Marcus to the throne of Dale, Thranduil to the throne of Mirkwood, and Bungo to the throne of the Shire. Thrain was blessed with a beautiful son, called Thorin. In the west, Bard son of Marcus was born. And in the south, the kingdom rejoiced as Thranduil annouced the queen's pregnancy. King Bungo and Queen Belladonna were not yet blessed with a child. The realm was in peace, and there was great joy. But it was not meant to be. In the far north, rumors spread that the orcs were gathering. A dark tale of an unknown evil spread across the land. But it was ignored. When the attack came, none were prepared. Lord Smaug was at the head of an army of orcs and wargs, the orc Azog at his side. In his hand was Melkor. That night, Erebor fell. King Thrain was slain, and the queen and prince were nowhere to be found. The kingdoms were shocked, and the alarm was sounded. However, Smaug and Azog descended on Dale before they could summon their men. Two nights later, Dale was in the hands of Smaug. It was on the third day that Queen Belladonna announced she was with child. When a son was born, they called him Bilbo. Smaug was on their doorstep, but they rejoiced. Lords came from all round, one of which was Lord Gandalf and his wife Galadriel. Now, Gandalf was one of the few in the realm that still practiced magic, and his power with his staff was legendary. Galadriel was then with child, and the kingdom wondered if Gandalf's skill would be inherited. However, it would never be known. As the kingdom lay feasting, Smaug attacked. The king put up a valiant defense and tried to send his women and children away, but it was no use. The city burned, and the army was slain. King Bungo retreated to his queen, and they despaired. It was known that Smaug would never let the king and his queen live. And so, a plan was devised. The queen would be sent with Gandalf and his lady wife, and the child would be saved. However, Belladonna was slain before she could make good her escape. Gandalf, Galadriel, and Bilbo were forced to flee into the night. Smaug burned the city and few escaped his wrath. A crown of red and black was set upon his head and he made his seat in Erebor. He bowed his subjects to his will, and he contemplated how he might seize the rest of the realm. Slowly but surely, his darkness worked south.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did you think?


	3. The Wilds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo's eighteenth birthday is just any regular day, until some men show up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright guys, we are FINALLY into the story! Warning for a pretty good amount of violence in this chapter and some gore. Also trigger warning for attempted rape!! Thank you for reading and let me know what you think!

Bilbo sat down on the edge of the hill that his house rested upon. The sun was just beginning to grace the small strip of land called the Wild. Down below, the village was stirring and the sounds of the morning could be heard drifting up the hill. There was a small breeze, but that was typical of early spring. The breeze ruffled his brown curls and nipped his nose. He was eighteen years today, and now he was a man. However, it was spring planting, and he knew that he and Father would have to start planting today. They would have scones for breakfast as a special treat, and then they would continue with their work. However, he was also honoring a tradition that was started when he was small. Every birthday, he would get up to watch the sun rise and would think on his mother. She had died when he was just a babe, before he and Father had come to the valley. Father said that she had always loved the sun, which was the color of her hair. Galadriel was the perfect mother in Bilbo’s eyes, and he only wished that he could have known her. But, his father was a great man. Strong and yet wise, Gandalf was becoming a more prominent figure in their village. Bilbo’s musings were interrupted by the smell of smoke coming from their home. Today would be a long day, and the day that they honored their agreement. Today, they would help his friend Bofur and his father Boldor with their planting. When they were finished with their field, the four would move on to Gandalf’s. With only two working men per family, it was an agreement that benefitted them all. Gandalf stepped out of the hut and stretched. His thick arms were corded with muscles, though his hair was now silver. His eyes were still dark and shining, and his voice could carry over any shout. “Thinking on your mother?” Gandalf asked.

“Yes Father, I’ll be in soon,” he replied.

“Take your time; I just wanted to tell you that breakfast was ready. Happy birthday my son, and may you have many more,” Gandalf whispered as he kissed Bilbo’s forehead and moved into the house. Bilbo soon followed him and they walked to Boldor’s home. Bofur jogged out to greet.

“Morning Bilbo, Gandalf! Father is in back, if you want to see him,” Bofur said. Gandalf nodded and started back, he needed to know where they’d be planting that year.

“Morning Bofur how’s Mother Milla?” Bilbo asked. Milla had been like a mother to the boy when he was small; he remembered many illnesses she’d had to see them both through.

“She’s doin’ fine,” Bofur chuckled, “And happy birthday!” At nineteen, Bofur was still Bilbo’s best friend. They’d met each other when they were very small, and the friendship had lasted. Bofur’s long, brown hair was the envy of many men in the town. His brown eyes sparkled with warmth, and his lilting voice caused many a woman’s heart to flutter. They started towards the field.

“Boys,” Boldor commanded, “You can start on the garden while Gandalf and I plot the field.” Bofur and Bilbo set to work and they took the opportunity to chat quietly.

“Have you heard about the rumors?” Bofur asked quietly.

“I don’t ever seem to,” Bilbo grunted quietly. Bofur looked to the house before continuing.

“Rumor is that Smaug’s comin’,” he whispered.

“Smaug?” Bilbo hissed, “Smaug is always coming!”

“Yes, but there are witnesses. Beorn went down to Archet to sell his sheep, and there was bunches of refugees there. They said that Smaug was comin’ down, lookin’ for a specific man, and he was set on findin’ him. He was burnin’ every village he came across, and there weren’t many that escaped. They were either taken to Erebor or killed,” Bofur whispered.

“What does your father say about it?” he asked.

“He says not to mention it, we oughtn’t scare Mother,” Bofur sighed, “But I’ve seen him at night. He got his sword out again, and he isn’t sleepin’ too well. He’s scared, and Mother is too, though neither of ‘em say anything.” Bilbo looked at his friend in shock. Neither Boldor nor Milla scared easy. He put a hand onto his friend’s shoulder.

“They’re probably coming for the elves. They’re the last free realm, they’ll probably pass right by us on their way to Mirkwood,” Bilbo soothed.

“Smaug don’t seem the kind of man to ignore folks,” Bofur sighed. Bilbo nodded.

“Our parents will take care of us. If there’s a problem, my father will take us away,” Bilbo reassured him.

“Yeah, my father said he’d talk to him today about it,” Bofur sighed. Bilbo nodded and they went about their work. They were soon called to the field. They worked all day, only taking an hour for lunch. They were just about to go to dinner when a thumping was heard.

“Did Beorn’s flock get out of the pen again?” Bofur sighed. He remembered that incident well, the flock was _everywhere_.

“Quiet lad,” Boldor commanded. Gandalf discreetly pushed the boys back behind Boldor and ran towards their home. Riders could be seen on the lip of the valley, nearly two hundred it seemed. With a great shout, they rode over the lip and thundered towards the village. “Bofur, your mother,” Boldor commanded, “And the two swords over the mantle.” The riders were in the village now. People were running about and screaming. Mothers had their children clasped in their arms, and fathers were scrambling around for weapons. Any people that they met where herded to wagons that we on the edge of the village. The homes were looted and burned. The men were tall and menacing, and their horses were black as night. Their armor was black with a red dragon on the breastplate.

“Smaug,” Bofur whispered as he came sprinting up. The human army that Smaug used with orcs was legendary. They were cruel and swift, and not keen on mercy. Milla clasped Bilbo and Bofur to her, and Boldor moved in front of the group. Two riders stopped in front of them, and they both leered at them.

“What have we here?” one purred. He thrust Boldor aside and grasped Bilbo’s chin.

“Fits the description,” one mused.

“How old are you?” the other demanded.

“He’s just a local boy…” Milla protested.

“Age!” the first spat.

“Eighteen winters today,” Bilbo said stoutly.

“He’s of age,” the second murmured.

“Take him,” the first commanded. Milla’s fingers dug like claws into Bilbo’s shoulders.

“You won’t be takin’ him anywhere,” Boldor hissed. He raised his sword, but it was no use. The second soldier snaked forward, and his sword slid through Boldor’s chest. Milla screamed and picked up the second sword. She swung it wildly and nearly cut the second soldier’s head off. His neck spurted blood and Bofur was soon awash in it.

“Run!!” she screamed. She parried the first soldier’s first strike, but she soon shared the fate of her husband. Bofur gave a howling shriek and collapsed next to his mother. His shoulders wracked with sobs. The soldier grabbed an arm and started to haul him forward. Just then, a roar was heard. A blade, shining and sharp, met the soldier’s. Gandalf stood above Bilbo. A staff was held in his hand. The staff glowed on the top, and Bilbo was astounded. However, Gandalf wasn’t quick enough. Before he could react, a soldier came from behind and imbedded an axe in his back. He gave a sigh and smiled at his son. The staff was consumed with purple. The purple leaked onto the ground and covered the two soldiers. There was nothing but ashes left of the soldiers. Bilbo screamed. Behind him, he noticed their two horses, saddled and ready. He could see Bofur kneeling by Boldor, and Boldor’s lips were moving. However, he soon joined his wife in the halls of the dead. Bofur gave a wail. Bilbo crawled over to Father, and Bofur soon joined him.

“Bofur lad, I have a gift for you,” Gandalf whispered. The staff was put in his hands.

“What is this?” Bofur demanded.

“You’ll soon find out. Get to Thranduil and Mirkwood. Bilbo, this sword is yours,” Gandalf whispered, “Now, get the horses and run. Only rest when night hits.” Then, Gandalf gave one last sigh, and his spirit was gone.

“Father?” Bilbo whimpered, “Come on Father, we have to leave. Bofur and I can ride double, we have room. Please Father, don’t leave.” His whimpers soon gave way to screams, and then he felt hands on his arms. He thrashed but he was soon lifted onto a horse. He gripped the saddle-horn and soon was moving. It was night before he noticed the world around him. They were about ten miles from Mirkwood and Bofur was next to him. He was sitting on his horse, almost bent over its neck. He was sobbing loudly. Bilbo stiffly dismounted and pulled his friend into his arms.

“They’re all gone,” Bofur whispered.

“I know, but it’s not your fault Bofur, you did what you could,” Bilbo agreed.

“Wh-What are we going to do?” Bofur stuttered.

“We go to Mirkwood,” Bilbo stated.

“And your sword, what about that?” Bofur asked.

“Yes, and your staff!” Bilbo exclaimed. He drew the blade and examined it. The metal was of smooth steel with runes running down the blade. The hilt was wrapped in leather and the picture of a green tree was on the pommel. It looked to be emerald.

“Where did your father get this?” Bofur whistled.

“I don’t know, I’ve never seen it,” Bilbo commented. Bofur then retrieved his staff from where it had been tied to his mount. It was a plain wood staff, with what looked like a crystal amidst tree limbs on top.

“What do you think it does?” Bofur asked.

“Don’t know,” Bilbo commented, “Now let’s get some food into us and then get some rest, we’ll have a long ride tomorrow.” They settled down on their bedrolls, but sleep would not come. Memories long forgotten flashed in Bilbo’s mind. The time Father taught him to plow, the time Father had to pull him and Bofur out of a hole, and everything in between. He heard sniffling beside him. Bilbo sighed. “Can’t sleep either?” he asked. Bofur shifted under the blankets.

“Would you ever forget your own family?” he asked.

“Of course not, what kind of question is that?!” Bilbo demanded.

“My father, when he was dying, he whispered ‘remember them’, and I didn’t know what he meant, but I know now,” Bofur whispered.

“And what is it that he found so important for you to find?” Bilbo queried.

“My family,” Bofur breathed.

“Your-your family is gone Bofur,” Bilbo said slowly.

“No, I mean my other family!” Bofur whimpered.

“Explain,” Bilbo stated as he rolled on his side. Bofur looked at him wearily.

“You know that me and mine lived in Dale before we came to the Wild,” Bofur explained.

“Yes, you came when I was around five years old,” Bilbo said. He well remembered the day when Father brought him to welcome their new neighbors.

“Well, we left Dale for a reason. When Smaug first took over, everyone hated him, and I think they still hate him. No one would work in his great castle, which he lived in before he rebuilt Erebor. And so, he took people. Remember, I was only around four years old when this happened. We had my big brother living with us, along with my cousin. His father, my uncle, had died in the defense of the city, and his mother in childbirth, so we took him in. At first it was only rumors. Criminals started disappearing from the jails and from off the streets. Then it was the orphanages that were starting to lose children. Then, it was the young men, convicted of crimes they didn’t commit and sentenced to ‘community labor’. My parents didn’t tell me all this, of course, but I was a horrible eavesdropper, and I had a few mates that knew what was goin’ on. Eventually, they started taking whomever they liked; families, old, young, women, children, anyone they thought might serve. One night, they came to our house. My mother hid me under the bed, but she wasn’t fast enough for my brother or cousin. They were taken. Smaug then completed his renovations in Erebor and moved there, taking his ‘servants’ with him. Mother and Father were heartbroken, and so we moved here,” Bofur narrated. Tears were in his eyes, and he soon felt arms around his shoulders.

“You didn’t forget them Bofur, you never did,” Bilbo whispered.

“But I…” he stuttered.

“Bofur, you were young, and you were a child until last year. You couldn’t have done anything. Now, let’s just pretend that we’re on a camping trip, just like when we were small,” Bilbo said as happily as he could. Bofur drew his bedroll next to his, and they pointed out the stars. They talked over their plans, everything that they’d ever heard of Mirkwood, both the good and the bad. When they had talked for a good while, Bofur finally drifted off. Bilbo’s memories would not abate, he did not sleep until the sky was gray, and then Bofur roused him a few hours later. They eat a few crusts of bread that had been thrown into the saddlebags along with some scant supplies. They rode on. The edge of forest grew closer and closer. Soon, they only had one mile to travel. They both slowed their horses to a walk so that they could rest.

“What do you think they’ll do to us?” Bofur asked.

“They’re elves, not orcs, as long as we’re peaceful they’ll leave us alone,” Bilbo soothed.

“You’re right, I’m sorry,” Bofur sighed. They rode on to the forest. Suddenly, they heard cries and laughter. They instantly reined their mounts in and dropped to the ground as quietly as they could. They crept to a patch of bushes and peeked out from them. Two of Smaug’s men held an elf in their arms while the other stood in front. She was screaming bloody murder, but none were around to hear her cries. “We’ve got to do something!” Bofur hissed.

“Get behind them,” Bilbo commanded.

“I don’t have a sword!” Bofur whispered.

“Use the staff, or steal one of theirs,” Bilbo instructed. Bofur crawled away slowly as Bilbo stood up and prayed. He weaved towards them and stopped haltingly. “What is the meaning of this?” he pretended to slur.

“Go away boy, this is the work of men!” one commanded.

“Oh William, don’t ya see he’s drunk?” one sneered.

“I see that Bert, but that doesn’t mean he gets to interfere!” William spat.

“I see what you’re sayin’, what do you think Tom?” Bert asked.

“I’m all for that idea too!” Tom agreed. Tom left the elf in Bert’s arms while he advanced towards Bilbo. Bilbo drew his blade, and he tried to pretend he was drunk. It wasn’t all that hard, he was shaking like a leaf from fear. He prayed that Bofur would make his move soon. His prayers were answered when he saw a short sword they’d abandoned disappear into a bush. He just had to give Bofur time.

“I am knight, sir, and you shall not defeat me!” he challenged. At that, William roared with laughter and the elf gave a cry. She was struggling hard in the arms of her captor, but she couldn’t get free.

“Learn ‘im Tom!” Bert roared. Tom advanced on Bilbo, sword drawn. Just then, a cry was heard from behind. Tom stopped his advance and looked back. Bofur was there, short sword in one hand and staff in the other. The elf was standing behind him and William had his sword drawn.

“Leave her be,” Bofur said firmly.

“Get out of our way,” William growled.

“Put down your weapons,” Bilbo commanded. With a roar, Tom charged Bilbo. Bert was lying in a heap on the ground where Bofur had knocked him out. William charged Bofur and soon the two were fighting. Tom swung his sword in a great sweep and missed. Bilbo reacted. He dropped to one knee and drove the blade up. It pierced the man’s armor, right between the breastplate and vambraces. He gave a scream and Bilbo yanked the sword out. Tom went onto his knees and Bilbo shoved his sword up and through a chink in his armor. Tom was dead. Bofur was facing William. He swung his staff in an arc and cracked William on the side of the head. The soldier gave a grunt but otherwise didn’t react. Bofur, seeing he wouldn’t be able to use the staff, dropped it. He took up the short sword and parried a blow from William. He snaked up from it and drove the point into William’s throat. The two boys stood there panting.

“We’ll have to finish off the other,” Bilbo panted, “Can’t have him going back to the army.” He drove the point of his sword into Bert’s throat and approached the elf. Her shirt was ripped, and she had some bruises, but otherwise she was unharmed. Her long dark hair was mussed and the points of her pale ears were barely peaking out of the tresses. Her chocolate-brown eyes shined with barely-contained fury and her creamy skin had a pale sheen. She was wearing a white shirt with dark trousers. Bofur could see a dark bow and a curved sword tossed carelessly aside. She was shaking, whether from fury or from fear he didn’t know.

“Are you alright lass?” Bofur asked quietly.

“I’m fine, thanks to you,” she responded.

“What’s your name, and what were you doin’ out here?” he asked.

“I was talking a walk through the forest when they came upon me. My name is Arwen,” she responded.

“I am Bilbo, and this is my friend Bofur,” Bilbo introduced, “We were just coming into the forest when we saw you. If you tell us where you live, we’ll take you home. Besides, we need a little bit of help finding the way ourselves.” Arwen nodded and Bofur retrieved her weapons. She buckled them on and Bilbo retrieved the horses.

“Forgive me for askin’ this, but if you were just goin’ for a walk, why are you armed?” Bofur asked cautiously.

“We’ve long had rumors of Smaug’s coming, best to be prepared,” Arwen responded. With that, Bofur hauled her up onto his horse and they entered Mirkwood the Great.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GANDALF! I know right! And Bofur the wizard...sort of! Don't worry, he'll get the hang of it! Thank you so much for reading and please comment!


	4. Mirkwood the Great

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo and Bofur meet the elves, have a lesson in genetics, and hole up in a psycho's barn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay guys, this a longer chapter, yay! We get to meet or elves here, along with two main characters. Warning for some violence near the end.

Arwen proved herself a steady guide as she talked them through the winding trails of Mirkwood. At first, the trees were quite thin, and then they grew into thick clumps. The light grew to a green and the cries of animals were heard from every direction. The forest was old, very old, and full of knowledge. Bofur looked up to see shadows flitting from tree to tree. “Did you think that we would leave our borders unprotected?” Arwen asked. Bofur stared at what he now saw to be scouts running from tree to tree.

“Why didn’t they come when you were in trouble?” Bilbo asked.

“They were too far off,” Arwen stated. Bilbo nodded.

“How much farther is it?” Bofur asked.

“My people do not build their homes within five miles of the forest border,” Arwen stated. Bofur whistled. After about three hours, they finally started to see the homes. They were made of beech, and they and the trees were one. Homes would be built around the trees, and there were not many homes that didn’t have a limb or two hanging over them. The white beech stood out against the dark of the forest, almost seeming to glow. They saw elves gather along the path. Children pointed and mothers drew them close. Fathers kept a ready hand on their weapons.

“What are they scared of?” Bofur asked quietly.

“You,” Arwen stated.

“Us?” Bilbo asked.

“Yes. It has been long since a hobbit or a human has come into our forest. When the darkness began to move south, our people withdrew into the forest. It is sad times when friends are looked upon with suspicion,” she sighed.

“Aye, it is. Yet, the same might be said for humans too. I’ve heard that they either drove out or slaughtered the dwarves and elves that were in Erebor and Dale when Smaug took over. None escaped the burning of the Shire. I remember because our lord and his family went to go and see the new prince. They didn’t come back, and we haven’t had a lord since,” Bofur said.

“Yes, an elven party was also present when the prince was first shown. They didn’t make it out either,” Arwen sighed.

“Aye, I’ve heard tell that Smaug is pressing on towards the dwarves too,” Bofur sighed, “There won’t be much left of the world in a year, I think.”

“No, there will not be,” Arwen stated, “Come, my father’s home is just up ahead.” The elves went back to their daily lives and the travelers continued onwards. Soon, they came to a large house, big enough to be considered a mansion. The beech fairly glowed in the darkening light, and the oak doors stood out beautifully.

“Who is her father again?” Bofur murmured. Bilbo raised an eyebrow and spurred his mount forward.

“I’m sorry, but who is your father again?” Bilbo asked shyly.

“You’ll meet him inside,” Arwen evaded. Bofur shrugged and dismounted. They approached the house and Arwen slowly opened the door and walked in. They found themselves in a long hallway. There was a dark wood on the floor and the walls were a beautiful green color. There were rugs on the floor and when they came to the end of the hallway, it opened into a beautiful room. There, a dark-haired elf was watering a plant.

“Lindir, where is my father?” she asked.

“In the back milady,” he replied.

“Very good, prepare rooms for our guests,” she said. Lindir bowed and went down another hallway. They followed Arwen to the back of the great house and out. There, in the back, there was a great throne of intertwined tree branches. On it, there sat an elf. Around him was a great garden, in which the roaming of animals could be heard. The elf that sat on the throne was tall, taller than any man that Bilbo had seen. His long golden hair was almost white, and it hung past his shoulders. Two braids were at the front, and a crown of holly and berries sat on his brow. An elk stood grazing behind him. Two eyes of an almost black color studied the two lads. For though Bilbo was a hobbit, the only real difference between hobbits and humans was the hobbits lived somewhat longer, and their ears were pointed. However, the elves were immortal, the wise people. They were as different as oil and water from the other races. The man’s dark eyes held a wisdom that was unknown, though he was young in years. “Father, these are my honored guests. I was accosted by the servants of Smaug, and these two young men saved me. May I present Bofur and Bilbo. Bofur and Bilbo, my father, Thranduil, King of Mirkwood,” Arwen introduced. Thranduil rose from his throne and looked at the two young men.

“Well met, and I thank you for saving my daughter, I am Thranduil,” he said. Both Bilbo and Bofur bowed at the waist.

“It is good to meet you, King Thranduil,” Bilbo said for both of them.

“Come, you must be tired, I will show you to your rooms. We will talk at dinner,” Thranduil said. He led them back to the house, where servants showed them to their rooms. Bilbo found clothes in a huge armoire, a red tunic with black pants. Bofur soon let himself into his room. He threw himself down on the canopy bed and sighed deeply.

“Well now, Princess Arwen,” he mused.

“Yes, though I should have guessed. Nice bedroom though,” Bilbo commented.

“What do you think they’ll do with us?” Bofur asked.

“I don’t know Bofur, we just have to explain the situation and hope for the best. Maybe they’ll allow us to stay here, though it’s more likely they’ll send us to a human colony that hasn’t been attacked yet,” Bilbo explained.

“And how many will that be?” Bofur demanded.

“I don’t know Bofur,” Bilbo sighed.

“It doesn’t seem like you know anything, but I guess I don’t either,” Bofur sighed heavily, “I’m sorry my friend, it’s just, I can’t stay here. I have to find my cousin and brother.”

“I know, and I’ll help, if I can,” Bilbo promised. Just then, an elf poked his head in the door.

“If it pleases you, King Thranduil would have you for dinner,” the elf said.

“We would be honored,” Bilbo said. He and Bofur followed the elf down the hallway and into a large dining room. It had three walls, on the east it was just columns. The trees came all the way up to the mansion, and some of the lower branches poked into the room. The king and Arwen were both seated at the table already. Bofur sat next to Arwen while Bilbo sat across from the king.

“Now, tell me, what brings a hobbit and a human to my realm?” Thranduil questioned. Bilbo cleared his throat and told their tale. He was surprisingly calm during the telling as was Bofur. The last few days felt like a lifetime ago, and the death of his father from another life. When he was done, he hung his head.

“We don’t want ta impose on your hospitality, we were just hopin’ to be pointed in the direction of the nearest human settlement,” Bofur said quietly.

“You are no bother. You saved my daughter’s life, and I believe that that is well worth a few days with guests, and we have plenty of room,” Thranduil said.

“We thank you, King Thranduil,” Bilbo thanked. Thranduil waved him off, and yet he looked on Bilbo with the most curious of stares. While Arwen engaged Bofur in light conversation, Bilbo was interrogated. Everything about his life, his father, and his past was asked about. Bilbo didn’t even know how much time had passed. Bilbo was utterly confused; Bofur had in no way gotten such treatment, though he was busy with Arwen. Thranduil finally put down his napkin and cleared his throat. Bilbo now noticed how Bofur and Arwen were staring confusedly at the elf.

“I am sorry if I seemed rude. Please, you must be tired. I will see you in the morning,” Thranduil said calmly. Bilbo and Bofur bowed and left the room. As they were leaving, Arwen hissed something in what could only be elvish. She sounded angry and confused, though Bilbo could hardly blame her. He and Bofur finally retired to their rooms. It had been a strenuous two days, to say the least, and with little sleep. Bilbo was barely undressed before he was asleep. So deep was his slumber that he never heard the squeak of the door, the creak of the floor, the sound of the sword being unclipped from his pack, or the door shut softly.

“Wake up!” a voice hissed. Bilbo groaned.

“Bofur, get off, it isn’t morning yet,” he moaned.

“Come Master Baggins,” the voice, a woman’s voice, said. Bilbo’s eyes shot open and looked at his companion. Arwen stared at him with a small smirk. “You will follow me,” she said as she got off his bed. She sounded hoarse and solemn. Bilbo put on some pants and quickly followed her. The wind bit against his bare chest, but he didn’t mind. Arwen led him down another hallway and past an open window. Through it, Bilbo could see many fires. “You see correctly,” Arwen said thickly, “Smaug has come.” Bilbo blanched and quickened his pace. They found themselves at a door.

“Where is Bofur?” Bilbo demanded, “What is this, and what did you call me?”

“You will soon have your answers,” Arwen said quietly, “Now come, my father is inside.” They walked into the room and found Thranduil with a thick tome. The book looked old and worn, and he handled it with care. In one hand was Bilbo’s sword. “What are you doing with that?” Bilbo demanded. Thranduil ignored him.

“Arwen, we must meet Smaug’s forces head on if we are to drive him from the forest. The borders are well guarded, all that is needed is our main force to join the patrols at the edge of the trees. You will lead them, take the armor,” Thranduil said.

“Legolas’ armor?” she gasped, “And what of Master Baggins?”

“I will stay with him, now go,” Thranduil commanded. Arwen bowed and left.

“Who do you think I am, and who is Legolas?” Bilbo demanded.

“Legolas was my eldest, he died in an orc shortly after the Shire fell,” Thranduil sighed, “Master Baggins, have you ever wondered how a poor farmer came by a blade such as this?”

“No,” Bilbo said, “I didn’t even know about it until two days ago.”

“And young Master Bofur’s staff?” Thranduil asked, “Was it in the shape of a tree?”

“Yes, it was. What is this about?” Bilbo demanded.

“How certain are you that Gandalf was your father?” Thranduil said softly.

“Absolutely,” Bilbo hissed.

“So the names Bungo and Belladonna Baggins mean nothing to you?” Thranduil asked. Bilbo sighed, remembering his father’s tales of a brave king and his laughing queen.

“Outside of fairy stories, nothing,” Bilbo responded darkly. Thranduil gestured over to the book.

“In this tome lies a history of all the great lords and magic users of Middle-Earth. The one I am interested in now is the story of Gandalf the Grey. Gandalf the Grey bore a staff in the likeness of a tree limb and was one of the greatest magic users to have walked the realm, save his predecessor, Isildur. An interesting piece of his history, he was at the presentation of Bilbo Baggins,” he explained.

“Bilbo Baggins?” Bilbo whispered.

“Son of Belladonna and Bungo Baggins, king and queen the Shire,” Thranduil stated.

“What happened to him?” Bilbo asked hoarsely.

“Smaug had already brought down Dale and Erebor, and he was nearing the Shire. Then, Bilbo Baggins was born, and the Shire rejoiced. A week after he was born, he was to be presented to the people. I sent an elven representative, and lords and ladies from all round came. Gandalf, and his wife Galadriel came as well. It was on that night that Smaug and his forces attacked the Shire. The city burned, and all were slain. My lord never came back to his pregnant wife. When loyal subjects searched the ruins of the Shire for survivors, the bodies of the baby prince, the wizard, and his wife were never found,” Thranduil narrated.

“This has nothing to do with me,” Bilbo spat.

“Come here,” Thranduil invited. Bilbo stepped up and looked at the book, and on it was a drawing of his sword, which Thranduil had in his hand.

“This sword was made by magic in the days of your ancestors, and your grandfather had this replica made. The original was hidden somewhere in this realm. Does this look familiar?” Thranduil asked.

“Coincidence!” Bilbo hissed.

“I think not, Smaug and his forces searching for one boy of eighteen winters, and your father’s sword suddenly appearing out of nowhere. He was right to give you to Gandalf, and I believe that your mother was Galadriel, or so he told you?” Thranduil asked gently.

“Yes, she was my mother,” Bilbo whispered.

“It is time you faced the truth boy, there’s nothing wrong with it,” Thranduil prompted.

“I am the son of Gandalf, not Bungo!” Bilbo spat.

“And yet you have your mother’s face. I knew Belladonna shortly after she and Bungo were married, she was a beautiful woman, and a good one,” Thranduil said softly.

“She is not my mother,” Bilbo said as calmly as he could.

“I would think on that,” Thranduil sighed.

“And if I was the son of Bungo?” Bilbo asked.

“If you were the son of Bungo, it would be your duty to seek out Sting, the sword in this book. You see, Smaug wields Melkor, a sword of great evil. Narsil was the only sword that would ever match it in strength, and it was broken in the time of our ancestors. Sting was one of the four, Dauntless the second, Deathless the third, and Cailothema the fourth. If you were truly the son of Bungo Baggins, you would have need to track down the other three wielders. Thorin Oakenshield would be the bearer of Deathless. He was in Erebor when it was attacked, but when they searched the city, neither he nor his mother were ever found. What happened to them, I know not. The heir of Girion we have heard no news of since the fall of Dale, though he would wield Dauntless. Arwen is now the last of my blood, and would wield Cailothema. It would also be your duty to acquire the book of Isildur, which would instruct your friend on the uses of his new gift. The weapons and the book must be found in order to defeat Smaug, for it was only through the Elendil and Saruman, with their weapons, that the bearer of Melkor can be thrown down,” Thranduil sighed.

“And if I am not the son of Bungo Baggins?” Bilbo demanded.

“Then the sword will reject your touch, and it will be up to you to find the bearer, and then to locate the other two heirs,” Thranduil said.

“Then I will find the sword for the bearer,” Bilbo said. Thranduil’s eyes showed the depths of his sadness as he nodded.

“Then for the sake of your mother, whether she be Belladonna or Galadriel, I wish you luck,” Thranduil said.

“How will we get out?” Bilbo asked.

“I will have someone guide you to an escape tunnel meant for my people. It comes out on the edge of the forest, from there, you will need to make your own way,” Thranduil said.

“Where will we go?” Bilbo inquired.

“It has long been said that something lies beneath the Shire, but what I do not know,” Thranduil said quietly, “I would counsel you to start there. Come, let us see how the forest is faring. I would have gone to the border myself, but this story was better told now, in case the defense should go ill.” He and Bilbo walked to a large window and stared. Bilbo’s stomach did a flip as he looked at the forest border.

“The forest, it’s burning,” Bilbo whispered.

“Mirkwood is lost,” Thranduil breathed.

“Is there a signal to evacuate?” Bilbo demanded. Thranduil turned tail and rushed out of the room.

“Rouse Bofur, you leave now!” he commanded. Bilbo flew down the hallway and burst into Bofur’s room. His friends long hair was in tangles as he fell out of bed.

“What’s happenin’?!” he demanded. Just then, a loud horn cried in the night.

“Smaug’s here. They put a fight, but the soldiers are burning the forest. Thranduil has a tunnel out of here, but we need to leave _now_!” Bilbo cried. Bofur untangled himself from the sheets just as an elf ran into the room and threw down two packs and some travel clothes. Bofur struggled into the worn, but sturdy, yellow clothes. He pulled his hair into his traditional two front braids while letting the back fly free. A strange hat was placed on his head and he started reefing through the pack to make sure it was all in place. Bilbo donned the white shirt, brown tunic, red overcoat, green trousers, and black boots that were provided to him. In the packs he found general supplies and food to last about two fortnights. He swung the pack on his back. The horns were being answered all round and he heard people running and yelling in the mansion. Outside, men, women, and children were going in quick, but orderly, lines to what must be the tunnels. Bilbo heard Thranduil barking orders. He raced into the room to find Thranduil with a bloody Arwen.

“Arwen, take your brother’s bow and his sword, you’ll need them. You’ll go with Bilbo and Bofur, they’ll need you,” Thranduil commanded.

“No Father!” she cried.

“Someone _must_ wield Cailothema! Your brother is dead, and I must stay with my people!” Thranduil said sternly.

“I cannot leave you!” she protested.

“You can and you will,” Thranduil commanded. He grabbed her arm, but she drug her feet. He put his arm under her legs and picked her up. She screamed but he held her fast. “Take care of her,” he whispered.

“I will, you have my word,” Bilbo whispered. An elf came and pushed some weapons into his arms, including Sting. Bofur was given a pack that was to be Arwen’s. Thranduil gave her a squeeze.

“I love you daughter, forever and for always,” he whispered, “Live long and right by our people.” Bofur dropped down into the tunnel and a screaming Arwen was passed to him. Bilbo dropped down into the tunnel, and Thranduil gave him one last nod before closing the trapdoor. Arwen screamed her father’s name, and Bofur and Bilbo were forced to drag her along. Finally, her cries subsided after what seemed hours. They were all exhausted. Bilbo and Bofur had slept very little, Arwen hadn’t slept at all. They put their arms around one another with Arwen between them. For hours they did this, supporting one another. Finally, they came to steps.

“Let me go first,” Arwen whispered. She withdrew Legolas’ bow and fitted an arrow. She gestured for them to come up and they found themselves in the sunshine. However, it was nothing to the gruesome scene which awaited them. The forest was in ruins. “NO!!!!” Arwen screamed. She screamed names and flew to the forest, but Bofur caught her first. He tried to sooth her, but it was no use. Suddenly, five soldiers appeared on the edges of the forest.

“Run!!” Bilbo screamed. They turned tail and ran as fast as they could. Bofur tossed Arwen her pack and they ran. The burned trees were left behind and long grass greeted them. They were once more in the Wilds. They ran for hours, until the sun turned west. Bilbo knew that they were lucky that they were still going. Suddenly, a house appeared on the edges of Bilbo’s blurred vision. “The house!” Bilbo panted.

“They’re behind us!” Bofur breathed. They finally got to the house and Bofur pounded frantically on the door. The door was thrown open and a large man growled at them.

“What d’ya want?” he growled.

“S-soldiers!” Bofur panted. The man’s eyes lifted and his face went hard. Bilbo was breathing against the wall, Bofur was leaning on the staff, and Arwen looked like she might faint.

“The barn, quick!” the man commanded sharply. They limped into the barn and the man ripped the boards from the floor. Under it there was a small space. Bofur and Bilbo threw themselves into the hole Arwen was handed down to them. The man threw down some boards and seemed to be working in the barn. Just then, they heard the doors bust open and many feet coming in.

“Where are they?” one voice demanded.

“Where’s who?” the man growled.

“An elf, a hobbit, a human,” a second said.

“Never saw ‘em, elf good lookin’ lass? Or do ya just like boys?” the voice sneered.

“They’re wanted,” the first spat, “Search the barn!” Things were being thrown around, and they heard the man say he needed something in the house. “Check the floorboards, sometimes they make gaps under there!” the first voice commanded. Just then, light came into the hole.

“Found ‘em!” the second soldier crowed. He never made another sound. He gave a gurgle and blood spurted from his mouth. With a primal roar, the man ripped his axe from the soldier’s back and cut another soldier’s throat. His twin axes dispatched the third and forth. With the forth, they got stuck in his chest. He was backed up by the captain, and he withdrew a hammer from his back. He parried the captain’s sword, swung the hammer in a great circle, and met the man’s head with a sickening crunch. He wiped the blood from his forehead and grinned at them. His grin faded and he sighed. He put his arms on his hammer.

“Food’s ready!” he said calmly. He started to walk out of the barn. He looked back at the group, who were clambering out of the hole. “And it’s Dwalin, at yer service,” he said formally with a little bow.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did you guys think?

**Author's Note:**

> Aaaand we have our line-up for the story! There may a few characters here and there, but this is the basic crew! Thanks so much for reading and let me know what you think!


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